Sing for Their Supper - 33

          

Ricky snorted. "Reconnecting would have been a no-go. When I ran, it was because I knew what would happen if he found out I was gay." He looked at Sam. "I take it your family wasn't exactly overjoyed that you are."

 

"My family… My parents died when I was sixteen. They knew and weren't too happy, but they dealt with it—sort of. The rest of my family…" He shrugged. "They didn't want me because I am gay. Oh, they'd have tolerated me, I suppose, if they had been forced to be my guardians, but I wasn't willing to find out."

 

"Sometimes being gay sucks," Ricky said bitterly.

 

"No," Sam replied. "It's not being gay that sucks. It's the people who can't accept that it's as natural as being straight."

 

"Too damned many of them. And if you tell me it's getting better, I know that. But it doesn't help when it's your own family who hates what you are."

 

"I know." Ricky looked so sad and angry that Sam wanted to hug him. He didn't, only because he had no idea how Ricky would react. "At least, now we're with people who don't give a damn one way or the other."

 

"That we know of," Ricky muttered.

 

Rather than reply to that, Sam said, "Feel like going for a walk? It's beautiful here. It might help your mood."

 

"I guess." Ricky got up when Sam did. "Which way?"

 

"Left. We'll walk around the lake. By the time we get back, we'll be ready to fall into bed."

 

Ricky cocked his head, almost smiling. "I don't think that came out the way you wanted it to."

 

"What? We've had a long day. We'll be tired by the time…" Then Sam got it. "Oh, boy."

 

"Yeah." Ricky began walking, pausing to look back as Sam, who was still standing there. "Are you coming?"

 

Sam chuckled. "Now you're doing it. Or my head is taking me places…" He doubled over laughing. "I think," he sputtered, "we'd better just walk without talking."

 

"Now what's the fun in that? I'm sort of enjoying the unintentional double entendres."

 

"Me, too. But still…" He hurried to catch up with Ricky. They walked for a while in silence, enjoying the moonlight shimmering off the lake and the quiet surrounding them—or at least Sam was. He couldn't tell for certain if Ricky did or not.

 

"This is so different from the city," Ricky said. "Peaceful. No fears. No worries. Just us and the lake and the trees. No… No haters."

 

The pain in Ricky's voice was back with those last two words. Instinctively, Sam put his arm around Ricky's shoulders. He felt him tense—then slowly relax.

 

"Haters will hate," Sam told him gently. "All we can do is act as if it doesn't bother us, even when it does. That's the best way to defeat them."

 

"It should be that easy." Ricky stopped walking to look at Sam. "It's not just the gay thing. It's everything. The way they treat us because we're homeless, like it's our fault. Like we're lazy, good-for-nothings."

 

"It's not everyone, Ricky. You know that."

 

"But it's too many." He sighed and began walking again. "I don't know why I'm on such a downer right now. I should be happy with all this, with the chance we're getting to be someone, to live our dreams. Well, my dream, anyway. It might not be yours, I suppose."